Straight From The Heart
by ExLibris3
Summary: A collection of enjoyable Jibbs one-shots.
1. Straight from the heart

**Straight From the Heart**

_- Jibbs moments, aren't they just lovely?_

**Author****'s notes: **This is a one-shot written from Jen's point of view. I have rarely written anything in this style before, but I thought I'd give it a shot. 

**Author's notes2: **This may or may not be a series of Jibbs one-shots. I might add other one-shots to this, if that is wanted.

* * *

I frequently ask myself whether this is right or not. I know it's irresponsible and dangerous, yet I always tend to forget all the reasons why this relationship shouldn't be happening whenever he's around. All I do know – regardless if he's here or not – is that I'm completely and utterly in love with him.

He enters my office late in the evening, his overcoat put on and ready to leave. I, on the other hand, am not. I tell him I just have to finish up a couple of things and suggest he take a seat on the couch. 

He remains standing, but strolls over to the bookshelves. I can see the hint of a smile on his face as he looks at the pictures I keep there. I slowly and silently finish up what I have been doing, occasionally cocking my head his direction. I can't help it. I let my eyes caress the silver hair, the way his neck is bent as he is looking at my pictures, stroking my gaze down his back to find his butt. I admire the view for a short while, until his voice startles me out of my concentration. 

"If you spend more time on finishing up your work instead of staring at my ass, the sooner we get out of here," he teases me without as much as casting a glance my direction. I smirk to myself; I'd always wondered how he could know what was going on behind his back. But in this case it was probably just me being predictable. 

He had started to pace my office in his impatience by the time I finally turn off my computer. His head shoots up at the sound of my movement. He smiles as I walk over to receive my coat, he's clearly relieved to get us out of here. Another minute more and he'd have been behind me, rubbing my shoulders and murmur in my ear what he wanted to do to me, intending on distracting me from work so he would get me to leave sooner, or make me not leave at all. He loves to tease me like this, and I also suspect he likes to see the look of exasperation mixed with desire on my face when he does that.

As I try not to think about what could have happened in here if I hadn't decided to call it a night, he sneaks up behind me, making me jump slightly as he slips his arms around my waist. I feel his breath on my ear as he mumbles he's missed me today. His lips gently graze the skin in my neck, forcing me to bite down on my lip to not moan out loud. I am not intending on doing this in here, of all places. 

I swiftly turn around in his arms, staring mischievously up at him. I look into his eyes, and just as I see he's about to say something, I capture his lips with mine. It's an effective way to shut him up. And allows me some time to think. 

Normally I don't let myself get carried away by his charm on work hours, it doesn't feel right. I'm still not clear on my professional thoughts of this relationship; I am his boss after all. But later in the evenings, when we arrive at my house, we are like any normal couple. I surrender myself to him and I can't deny my love for him any less than he manages to deny his for me. And I don't feel any of the professional pressure. 

Through the entire ranting in my head, I'm well aware of the way his tongue is stroking mine. Before I can get too much involved with him, I gently pull away; tell him I've missed him too, and that I think we should be heading home. I can see _that _look in his eyes, the look of hunger and desire that makes my knees buckle. His arms are still wrapped securely around my back, making sure I manage to stay upright. He places another searing kiss onto my lips.

* * *

Our clothes lay scattered on the floor, leaving a trail leading from the bedroom door to the bed.

I gently place my hand on his bare chest; under my fingertips his skin is still damp with sweat. I can't help but to smile as I glance up at his sleeping features, my skin is still tingling where he has touched, kissed and licked my body. The room that just moments ago was filled with the sounds of the bed rocking, mattress squeaking and mine and Jethro's ecstatic moans mingling together, is now taken over by silence. Except for his deep breathing and an occasional light snoring.

His hair is messy, and it feels good to know that I'm responsible for it, I wipe away a trace of my lipstick that is smeared at the corner of his lips, carefully to not wake him, and I can't resist the urge to let my fingertips caress the side of his face. His forehead is also sweaty and I smile and wonder how hard I had worked him this night. I must have really worn him out. 

I cuddle closer to his warm and comfortable body, lying next to him is my favorite place in the world. I bury my nose in his chest, and inhale. He smells of salt and sawdust, with a faint hint of bourbon that must have gotten on his skin from my mouth as I was ravishing him with kisses. There is also a scent that I recognize as my perfume. I smile into his chest, well aware of the fact that I was good at leaving my marks on him, sometimes just my scent, but I was an expert at leaving scratch marks from my fingernails all over his back. The morning after I use to leave soft kisses on the scratches, as compensation.

And, of course, I didn't go unmarked by him. I wince as the old bruises on my hips are being replaced by fresh ones, from when his hands grips around my hips as he moves with me. I'm just glad he decides to put the bruises where I can easily hide them from the public.

It is not just my body that wears his marks, my house is also scattered with things indicating there's a man in my life. He keeps his toiletries in my bathroom, as he ever so often spends the night, his clothes have managed to sneak into my closet and then there is his scent that sips into every corner of my house, a sensual mixture of sawdust, bourbon and coffee that makes me not able to stop thinking about him whenever there's a night when he's not here with me. 

He pulls me closer to his body in his sleep, his hand slips down my stomach. I try to suppress a moan, but I can't help but to smile as I think that even while asleep he can tease me.

I leave the warmness of my bed, pulling one of the sheets with me and wrap it around my naked body, wincing slightly as I rise on shaky legs. I glance back at him, still fast asleep among the tangled mess of sheets; his hand grasps the sheets feebly, as if wondering where my warm body went. 

I smile is tugging at the corner of my lips as I walk to the window, the world outside is dark and damp from today's rain. By a streetlight I can see it's still drizzling.

As for my thoughts on our relationship, I don't think I'll ever be able to let him go. I can't see myself living without him. 

I hear the mattress squeak, footsteps on the carpet, then hands slips around my waist and Jethro's voice, rough from sleep, whispers in my ear how cold the bed feels when I am not there. He puts a smile on my face.

I unwrap the sheet around me, inviting him to come closer to me. I feel his chest press against my back as he rewraps the sheet around or bodies. I lean into his embrace, enjoying the skin against skin contact. He tilts his head down and drops a kiss on my shoulder, and continues to trace his lips up my neck, burying his nose in my hair. He inhales deeply, taking in my scent.

I shut my eyes, my breath hitches as he finds the special spot in my neck. I feel his lips curl into a smile, well aware what this does to me. He whispers my name against my skin as I relax, surrendering myself to his mercy. 

I shift position, turn around in his arms and before he can say anything, I cover his lips with mine. I feel his hands flutter over my body, gripping at my hips, roaming up my back, pulling me flat against him. The kisses I deliver are heated; I can feel his desire burning on his lips as his tongue dances with mine. 

Though my mind is occupied with thoughts of him and what he'd doing to me, I manage to slip another thought into my mind. 

I'll be a serious fool if I give up on us. And if anyone would have a problem with our relationship – thinking it's unprofessional of me,

Screw 'em, I think as he pushes me back down onto the bed, and then I lose the ability to think at all.

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_Please give me your thoughts on this one, I'd love some opinions!_

_Emma_

_xxx_


	2. Tears don't dry on their own

**Tears don't dry on their own**

**Author's notes: **_First I want to thank you for the wonderful reviews. I've decided to add more one-shots to this little collection. _

_So here's the second one, written from Gibbs' POV._

* * *

The last time I saw her, she was crying. I remember it clearly, because it's so rare to see her cry. I also remember because it was I who had made her cry. But this day, a day when the sky was painted a dark shade of grey, thunder was in the air and the rain poured, scattering hard against windows and flooding the streets. On a day like this, she had cried.

I had been standing in her office, watching as the tears ran in streams down her cheeks. I'd brushed my fingers against her cheek, my fingertips got soaked in her tears and she'd tried to turn her head away from me, trying to hide her tears. I'd brought my other hand up to cup her face, tilted up her head to make her meet my gaze. My thumb caressed her lips, her eyes looked up at me, red and slightly swollen, and I was surprised to see such pain in her deep green eyes. I had never seen them so naked before, such exposed sadness and fright that I didn't even know existed in her. I'd hated it that I had put that look on her face. Still framing her face with my hands, I'd pulled her abruptly closer to me. The next second I had pressed my lips forcefully onto hers, delivering a quick but furious kiss. 

For me, the moment seemed to last forever. In reality, it lasted a mere couple of seconds. I hadn't even given her enough time to respond, or pull away; I hadn't been sure what she would want to do. Hadn't been sticking around long enough to find out, either. 

I had taken my lips off hers, and without meeting those devastating eyes, I'd withdrawn from her, releasing her face and turned to walk away. It was only when I'd placed my hand on the doorknob that I'd found myself glancing back over my shoulder. I'd watched her tearstained cheeks one last time, before I shut the door behind me and left her alone. I'd just wanted to forget that ever happened, that I had made her cry.

* * *

I swirl my glass of bourbon around, my gaze fixed upon the amber liquid, without really seeing it. I can't make myself forget what I had done to her today; the picture of her with tears on her cheeks is still clear in my vision, firmly implanted in the back of my head. I can't forget it, and frankly, I'm not so sure I want to. 

It was all because of me, because I had lost control over myself, and, thinking she'd be as strong and able to put up with an old bastard like me, I'd stormed into her office, yelling at her over some stupid cause that wasn't even that bad. When I had finished my outburst, I'd looked up to see her crying.

I still can't understand why I had to overreact like that. Why I had to shout at her and put that look of pain and fright in her eyes. Today had been the first time I'd seen her afraid of me. I hate myself for scaring her. The only thing I know is why I had kissed her.

I down the rest of the bourbon, place the empty glass on the workbench as I see no reason in pouring myself a re-fill, knowing that no matter how much I drink, I won't forget. I believe there's only one way to fix this.

* * *

I ring her doorbell and wait patiently. The rain is still pouring, a thunder strikes far away. I know she is home, I can see a light from her living room. Yet it takes almost a couple of minutes for her to open, I figure she's expecting it to be me, but not being entirely sure, so she feels she has to open up just in case it's not me.

I hear the lock click and brace myself, she cracks the door slightly, I catch a glimpse of her face, and it devastates me to see remnants of crying still on her cheeks. She makes an attempt at shutting the door in my face, just as I had expected her to do. But I move too quickly for her and insert my hand between the door and the frame, making her unable to close it without crushing my hand. She clenches her teeth, but does not say anything, just opens the door a little more, her heart is too kind to smash my hand, which I am grateful for.

"Jen…" I force out, suddenly at a loss for words as I take in her full appearance. I have always known she is beautiful, but I had forgotten just _how _beautiful she is. Her purely divine features gets even more astonishing in the dim light and because of the pain and angst still shining in her emerald eyes. The long white silky robe she is wearing just adds to my conviction she's a goddess. 

"Yes?" she says, pulling me ruthlessly from my thoughts. Right, there is something I'm here to tell her. I have to restrain myself to not let it slip how amazingly beautiful I find her.

"Jen," I try again, noticing I have to struggle to keep my voice steady. She is leaning against the door post as I continue to speak, "About today…" I trail off, damn; I'm not good with apologies. She doesn't move a muscle.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that…" I run my hand down my face. I never thought it'd be this difficult to apologize to her, to her, of all people. "I came over to apologize," I finally say, my voice trembles a little, but I hope she hasn't picked up on it. 

"I'm listening," she just says, her forehead resting against the door post and her body is angled, the robe opening up a little in the front. My mouth is getting dry, but I can't tell if it is because of the fact that I don't know what to say, or because I'm too aware of what she is wearing.

"Jen, these words aren't' heard often from my mouth, but I have to give them to you," I begin, my gaze sweeps over her face. No particular reaction. "I'm sorry, Jen, for the way I acted today. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that," I can see the sincerity in my voice is not just surprising me, but it's also taking her aback. I continue. "I didn't mean to make you cry," I add softly. Her gaze is fixed upon her feet; making me unable to read her eyes, as I am sure she's avoiding looking into my eyes.

"Forgive me?" it's a question, one that I am desperate to get an answer to. I need her to forgive me, in order to be able to forgive myself. She finally lifts her head, and stares into my eyes.

"You haven't apologized for the kiss," she inquires, and maybe I'm just imagining, but wasn't that the faintest of smiles that just crossed her lips? Nevertheless, I feel the corner of my own lip rise in a soft smile.

"I'm not so sure I can apologize for that," I say, and there it is again, the slight twitch of her mouth, dangerously close to forming a smile. "Unless you want me to," I add quickly, silently praying I won't have to. The moment my lips had touched hers, I'd felt more alive then I had…well, since the last time I had kissed her, meaning years ago. I look at her as I am anxiously waiting for a response.

She studies me carefully, her emerald eyes taking in my whole appearance, from my feet up to my face, and lingers just a moment longer on my hips and eyes, making me feel even more nervous, and frankly, a bit aroused. Her eyes glisten as she knows just what she is doing to me.

"So, what's it gonna be, Jen?" I ask, not able to keep my voice from trembling. Her hand is playing with the tie holding her robe around her body. I feel a tingle in my lower parts as I try not to think about what is underneath that silk. Her natural red curls are framing her face, and I'm getting the goddess image back into my mind.

My mouth is painfully dry and my hips are burning as she finally makes her choice. Agonizingly slowly, she opens up the door, and steps aside to allow me in. As I accept her silent invitation, I brush past her on my way in, her hand slips over mine, intertwining her fingers with mine. Her emeralds meet my sapphires, and without losing each other, I bring her hand up to my face, placing a soft, but loving kiss onto her palm. She immediately reaches for the tie again, and I instinctively know I'm forgiven. 

* * *

_Please press that pretty little blue button, and I'll add more ;)_


	3. Rainy Days

**Rainy Days**

**Author's notes: **_Thanks for your kind reviews! Here's a new one-shot. It got a little more smutty then I had intended, but I hope you don't mind, if you do, you have been warned. Enjoy. _

* * *

The fire roam in the corner, casting a warm orange light over her study and making the shadow's dance on the walls. A comfortable heat had spread, making the raging storm outside seem much farther away. Wet clothes hang at the mantelpiece to dry up, soaked from when their owners had sprinted from the car to the front door, the short distance had suddenly taken that much longer as he had decided to plant a steamy kiss onto her lips – under the sky that seemed determined to try and drown the earth. She had managed to shake him off under the threats that they would by all means catch pneumonia if they stayed out in the chilly rain for much longer. He had reluctantly agreed, much due to the fact that she then threatened that that had been his last kiss if he didn't come with her inside.

He is now sitting on the floor in her study; a blanked wrapped around his naked body and he's grinning mischievously up at her as she stubbornly remains seated on the couch, just as naked as he is, with the blanket drawn up over her chest.

"Come on, Jen!" he prompts her and gestures to the floor besides him.

"Why do we have to be on the floor? Doesn't the couch work just as well?" she pouts and kicks away his hand that had begun worming its way up her calf. "Why don't you come join me up here?" she tries to coax him as she pushes away another wandering hand.

"Because, it's much more fun down here, Jen," he inquires and smirks as she glares at him. "Fine then, if you wanna be boring – "he doesn't finish his sentence, he's too caught up with the one part of her body he's managed to catch – her ankle. She feebly tries to shake him off, but gives up and let him have his way. A triumphant grin flashes over his face.

"Oh, don't you look so smug, Leroy Jethro Gibbs!" she warns him, but he's annoyingly unable to wipe the satisfied grin off his face. He hides his disappointment that his dig about her being boring hadn't stung. "You won't be getting anything tonight if you keep doing that!" she clenches her teeth to suppress a low moan as he's started to trail his fingers up her calf, in feather light touches.

"Well, by the looks of it, we won't be getting anything at all tonight, seeing as you're up there, and I'm down here," he teases and notices her desperate attempt at keeping a straight face. He knows she's secretly enjoying their banter, just as he is.

"Well," she struggles to keep amusement from her voice, "Give me one good reason, and I'll come down," she states and he shifts a little closer to her, a dangerous glittering in his eyes.

"I'm here," he simply says and now she really can't stop the smile from washing over her lips. He can tell by the look on her face that she finds that a good enough reason, and before she can do anything about it, he throws up both his arms and roughly pulls her down onto the floor. She shrieks out in surprise as she lands hard on his lap. Her damp hair falls over his face as he holds onto her; he closes his eyes and inhales her scent. She smells of her fruity shampoo, the freshness of the rain and the warmness of the fire. He places his lips in the crook of her neck, and detects a slight hint of her perfume. He finds her scent to be extremely arousing.

Jen blows a puff of cool air into his ear as he is working on her neck, she feels him biting down lightly on her shoulder as she does it. She'd always been amazed by the way he could make her feel, right now she is the luckiest woman in the world, and she's being treated like she is the most beautiful.

She captures his lips with hers, strokes his lips with her tongue and begs for permission to enter his mouth. He grants it, as his hands are roaming over her back, trying to pull her even closer to him. The blankets that are still shielding her body from his are an issue easily taken care off as he gently shakes it off her and flip her over, removing his own.

She grins up at him, her naked body wriggling under his, she runs her hands down his chest as he places kisses on ever part of her body he can reach. She moans loudly, scrapes her nails down his stomach and urges him on, feeling just how strong his desire is against her thigh. She loves this, loves it when she's doing this to him, she loves _him_. And she's determined to prove to him just how much she loves him. She smiles wickedly and wraps her legs around his waist, pulling his hips down to meet hers. She arches her neck as he enters her and begins to move with her, their moans mingling together until they reach their climax, and he collapses heavily onto her.

She places gentle kisses on his shoulders as they have managed to sit back up after their loving encounter on the floor. He's leaning his back against the couch; she is leaning against him, a strong arm draped across her shoulders, his fingers trailing up and down her arm. Their legs are extended on the floor, tangled together and hidden under the same blanket as the thought about sitting separated would seem like pure torture right now. The fire is still burning calmly in the corner.

They are both lost in their own train of thoughts. She is still thinking about their recent love making, what emotions he had caused to rush through her body, how her skin had heated up where he had touched and kissed her, the leaps her heart had made as she'd seen his normally pale eyes darkened with desire, but yet managing to shine with love. She couldn't for the world figure out how he did it.

He is thinking about her beauty, glancing down at her and seeing her flustered face, the green eyes still shining with excitement and her skin glowing after he's made love to her is the most precious of sights. He reaches out his hand to brush away a strand of her hair that is no longer damp from the rain, but from sweat. He pulls her from her thoughts and she tilts her head up to meet his gaze.

"So, was it worth it?" he inquires, his voice low, whispering, as if talking louder would shatter the magic of the moment.

"What was?" she mumbles back, equally quiet.

"Was this worth coming down on the floor for?" she lets her gaze sweep across his face; he smiles wickedly down at her.

"What do you think I think?" she replies and leans in to leave a soft kiss on his lips. He slips a hand around her neck and holds her in place as he lets his tongue explore her mouth for what seems like the fortieth time this evening. When he pulls away, leaving her breathless, he smiles again and caresses her cheek.

"I don't know," he teases her, knowing far too well just how much she had loved it, but wanting to hear her say it. "What do you think?"

A new idea starts to form in her mind, and with a wicked smile on her lips, she moves too quickly for him, and pins him to the floor underneath her, straddling his hips as he moans in surprise. She rushes her hands up his chest, smiling wickedly as she is going to prove to him just how much she loves being on the floor.

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_Yes, blue buttons are pretty. Please press it :)_


	4. The Art of Seduction

The Power of Persuasion

**The Art of Seduction**

As I ran my fingers down her exposed throat, I get this overwhelming urge to kiss the pale skin she's so seductively showing off. I know she's just feigning to be asleep, knowing she's just waiting for me to give into temptation and take her one more time. It doesn't matter that I'm too aware of the game she's playing on me, I still fall for it every time. But not tonight, I tell myself and smirk as I withdraw my fingers from her skin.

It often frustrates me, what she is doing. And what's even more annoying is the knowing smile that slips across her lips when she's always aware of what she's doing to me.

She knows just how to kiss my neck to make the adrenalin flood through my veins, causing me to roughly push her up against the nearest wall and it's not until I see triumph flash in her eyes that I realize I fell for it. Again.

She knows just how to say my name to have me rushing right into her arms, prepared to face whatever made her say my name in such a pleading manner. And she has me right where she wants me.

She knows just how to fight away the demons that threaten me at night, knows just how to hold me when beads of sweat runs down my back and my eyes are wide after tangling myself up in her sheets after yet another one of those nightmares.

She knows just how to run her finger over my lip, before she agonizingly slowly leans in to kiss me, knowing the teasing just fuels my need for her. Knowing just how to slowly coax my lips apart and hesitantly begins to explore my mouth with the tip of her tongue, making me almost dizzy with lust and thrust my own tongue deep into her mouth, releasing all the desire in me she has brought out to the surface.

She knows just how to let her eyes travel up and down my body, lingering for a few seconds on my hips, a second too long and she gets her desired effect. She knows just what expression to put in her eyes as she does this, making me unable to deny her anything.

She knows just how to sound when I'm on top of her that makes whatever hesitation that may or may not exist in me to disappear in a flash and I instantly lower my hips onto hers, just to hear her sound like that again.

She knows just how it gets me hot when she runs her hands over my boat and compliments me on how skillful I am with my hands, her eyes implicating that she's not just talking about my skills on the wood. That's what gets me turned on, that implication and the seductive glance in her eyes. Somehow those moments always end up with her pushed up against the boat with whatever damned skirt she is wearing pushed up around her hips and me standing before her, moving deep inside her.

She knows I cannot resist it when she tosses her red curls over her shoulders and catches my eyes from across the squad room. Discreetly she cocks her head in the direction of the elevator, and with the knowledge that I will not get her image out of my mind any time soon, I join her in that goddamn elevator, the moment after I've burst through the door I have her against the wall, kiss my way up her throat until I find her supple lips.

She knows just how seeing her socializing with other men makes me green with envy. She knows just how to smile at them to make me want to rip their throats out. She knows just how to place her hand discreetly on their arms to make me clench my fists until my knuckles whiten in frustration. She knows just how that frustration fuels my desire for her and that my only release is her, and she willingly comes to me afterwards, just to see my eyes dark with a mix of lust and anger, just to have me taking her roughly against the wall, on the couch or if we actually manages to make it to bed.

She knows just how much of me belong to her. I'll be damned to deny I don't know that too. The wicked way in which her mouth places kisses on every inch of my body is proof enough that every damned part of my body belong to her, and she knows just how to treat it to make me not want her to ever stop.

She knows too damn well my weaknesses, and uses that knowledge to make me never tire of watching her come apart underneath me, make me never relinquish my hold on her, make me never want to give up the privilege of getting to feel her soft lips against mine every morning when I wake up, make me never stop to deliver her kisses that stops time, make me give her those silly romantic gifts women wants, and I do that in a manner that would even make Cupid pale in comparison.

She knows she's a goddamn seductress, knowing how to get me down on my bare knees before her. She knows too well what art of seduction works to get me right where she wants.

She tires of pretending to sleep when I did not take her bait, and turn around in bed to face me, a sparkle of annoyance in her pretty green eyes and her lips pressed tightly together. I smile wickedly at her, letting her know I know damn well what I have done.

She pretends to pout when I press my finger against her lips as she attempts to speak. I don't need her pleading; my self-control is pretty much on the edge as it is. Her eyes glitter as she immediately understands what my intentions are.

I have long ago given up on resisting her, and she certainly doesn't disagree when I push her down onto the mattress, my body hovering above hers and the triumphant expression brightens up her face as I bend down to kiss her throat. She moans and rushes her hands through my hair, knowing she's having me right where she wants me. And knowing there's no place in the world I'd rather be.


End file.
